Vignette: Paths Set

Wandering between the small trees, the chickadee
shrieks; we see, impaled upon a branch, the
shrike strikes parametrically

Earlier we’d been chased by rats, objecting
to stones thrown, who then attacked
the warrior tribe of 12 year olds running fast

Later we’d debate hopping a slow train, watching
signals change as we stared: hidden below
in the cement bunker beneath the rails of the world

© Dean J. Baker

poems are posted to share, be shared, and entice those who love the work to owning the books from which the poems are excerpts

https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

all my ebooks $2.99, print 9.99 and lower

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Timelessness

beyond the Podunk of despair, K

 

 

 

 

Between what I think of you, and recall now
though you might as well be in the next room,
we run out of the blue and live endlessly

Between the spells of remembrance, the foils
of eternity where we breathe to the moon
and back, beyond the breach of captured facts

The thought of this or that detail soliciting
attention, we stand out of the way
to experience and forgive ourselves the vanity of

Children who cannot tell the difference
when arguing validity; or the significance of what
this does, or does not mean, to you or me

While we make our way again to the moment
where our gratitude speaks loudest: and we,
quiet now, turn all our being to an unforgotten reach

© Dean J. Baker

poems are posted to share, be shared, and entice those who love the work to owning the books from which the poems are excerpts

https://www.amazon.com/These-Being-Hinterlands-Dean-Baker/dp/1983870560

https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

all my ebooks $2.99, print 9.99 and lower

 

..from OF FLESH SCULPTURES AND ABANDONED LOVE.. ‘Life On Other Planets’

In the house I supposedly own, someone broke in
the other night and took me for granted. I felt
no alarm or fright since it had gotten to be
quite a familiar habit. Whoever it was used
my chair, drank my wine, smoked my cigarettes,
then fell asleep at my desk after having composed
some poems I couldn’t possibly recognize as my own.

Later when he awoke I noticed nothing missing, though
things such as my notebooks, books, and even guitars
had been rearranged. My clothes undisturbed, my shoes
and boots lined up like soldiers at attention.
The cat remained curled, the woman fast asleep –
as far as they could tell there’d been no change at all,
the discovery of life on other planets a dream.

I sat outside near the cypress tree watching the stars’
light finally reach me, though my name was not called.
I felt a shadow fall, standing startled to see it
lean against the wall offering a silent conspiracy:
a secret knowledge I must learn to inhabit. Undone
by a score of lessons learned, I knew nothing again
before I could burn in my hidden solitude.

Who would stop at nothing would forever persist –
returning travelers rejoicing knew this, as I did
yet would regret and repent what I could refuse
to experience; any number of mouths and lips, whispering
in a different language than daylight, bringing those
things already known which, before I look too close:
I look away from into the nearest distance I once chose.

© Dean J. Baker

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‘Hamster Wheels’… from Of The Dominions Unleavened

No more poems on this hamster wheel
of WordPress where all the clickers peel
away checking for their faces

and absolutely none know what’s fake
or real being too dumb and uneducated
in Literature or the sociology of language

since it’s come
to the lowest common denominator: all
are priests, poets and philosophers

with no background in reading, while those
accepted as purveying true poetry
are shills for publishing houses dependent
on complicit contrivances

between academia, psychologists et al
in the daisy chain of incestuous cultural
references; where authority has
nothing to do with the authentic, nor

the fools about to be disabused
of the idea of their own legitimacy:

amidst a sudden awakening against the sad
so-called profundities
in which they will remain very much mistaken

© Dean J. Baker

-excerpt from Of The Dominions Unleavened, 102 pages, $8.99, ebook $2.99

poems are posted to share, be shared, and entice those who love the work to owning the books from which the poems are excerpts

https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

 

‘Song For Jenny’..from The Lost Canadian, Vol.1, Early Poems Selected, print 9.99, ebook 2.99

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mad-
ness hums in my ear,
like a fly
that’s caught there.

I can’t touch you.
This is
the new ballet.
I can’t touch you.

Stay away,
I am deaf with silences.
Splintered and shining,
I go down like a stone.

-excerpt from The Lost Canadian, Vol.1, Early Poems Selected, 112 pages, $8.99, ebook 2.99….first published in Northern Light.. photo is of Guelph, Ontario railway station

©Dean J. Baker

CELESTIAL MIGRATIONS IN THE EMPIRE $8.99 print, $2.99 ebook

All my print books mostly 7.99 and 8.99, including the latest 3 poetry books – for .99 you get the ebook as well when buying the print – ebooks $2.99

8.99

both these are marked at 7.99 each – Amazon will catch up

#Poetry #Literature All my books here – even the latest poetry –
are 9.99 or less, plus for .99 when buying the print book you get the ebook as well. Click on the photo for these specific books.
7.99
8.99
8.99
8.99
8.99
9.99
9.99

Check all the others here – https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

©Dean J. Baker

Limbo: Stasis

Kasha on vacation
Kasha on vacation

 

 

 

 

 

Limbo now is not a dance
the dangling participle no entrance
suggestive of sex or science

or language masticated by the toothless
but too much exile
waiting for the light of the world

to atom blast your face
against the concrete realities
overwhelming everything by

the Babel feast of lost stories of innocence
as if that were a gift, a credit at
the merchant store of false narratives

of success over the one slice
dimensional forces
spewing forth a dialogue

in a broken tongue neither you nor I
anymore wish to speak or learn
or eat

or kiss anyone with such a device
good only for swallowing tripe
so that we could endlessly

repeat again
lives led in slaughter and denial
our white hats smothering

what occurs
while we tightrope walk across the abyss
to a music made by monsters

©Dean J. Baker

CELESTIAL MIGRATIONS IN THE EMPIRE $15.99 print, $2.99 ebook